


Variance

by freoduweard, komiv



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freoduweard/pseuds/freoduweard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/komiv/pseuds/komiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the siege bridge collapses, Adolin is too far away and Dalinar falls. The conclusion in the warcamps is simple: no one could have survived the drop. The Highprince and his Captain of the Guard are lost.</p><p>But Dalinar Kholin wakes at the bottom of a chasm, and Kaladin Stormblessed cannot keep his secrets forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variance

**Author's Note:**

> The what-if of Dalinar falling instead of Shallan wouldn't leave me alone the entire time I was reading WoR, so I ended up starting to plot what might have happened...if it had happened. This begins the result.
> 
> Thanks and partial blame goes to [freoduweard](http://archiveofourown.org/users/freoduweard/pseuds/freoduweard) for beta/plotting help!

The day they went to find Shallan a chasmfiend chrysalis, Adolin Kholin insisted on leading the vanguard.

He claimed he wanted to make sure each plateau was secure before his father crossed with the rest of the soldiers, but his shoulders straightened ever so slightly more as he passed Kaladin and the rest of Bridge Four. His eyes wandered back to the palanquin that carried Shallan alongside the other scholars accompanying them on the day’s venture. Dalinar saw little reason to refuse when Adolin brought it up, so with the vanguard Adolin went.

The journey was relatively quiet, hot under the sun but nothing out of the ordinary. No Parshendi arrived to challenge them as they crossed the Plains, though Adolin saw the scouts frequently conversing with Dalinar before vaulting off again to survey the surrounding area. Though he made sure Kaladin was aware of the assassin being sighted on the Plains, their precautions proved unnecessary as the assassin never appeared.

His other efforts, to pry more personal information out of Kaladin, saw little success in the time he had to make an attempt. There _was_ something odd about that man—surviving his fall with the assassin the least among his discrepancies—but Kaladin continued to avoid giving real answers about any of it.

Even if they were on the same side, the not knowing made Adolin nervous, like a hole in his defense he couldn’t quite fix. He had tried to bridge the gap between them himself, make up for what happened after Kaladin had come to his and Renarin’s aid in the duel, but Kaladin had given the Shards away instead of keeping them.

There was something _odd_ about that man.

He sighed. Maybe Renarin might have a better idea of what to do, or might at least have heard some hint from Bridge Four about just what Kaladin was so intent on hiding.

After several hours they settled into a rhythm, Bridge Four taking their bridge ahead of the army and putting it down to allow the vanguard to go secure the next plateau. Adolin nodded to them as he led his men across, scanning the terrain before them. They were nearing their destination now, where Shallan would be able to examine the chrysalis all she liked, though when he glanced back it appeared she had stopped on the other plateau to examine something too small for him to see.

They had advanced to the interior of the plateau when he heard the shout from behind them, Kaladin yelling loud enough to be heard over the sound of warning horns in the distance. Adolin heard “Stop that man!” and saw Kaladin racing back over the bridge to where Dalinar had stopped, head turned.

A worker in a cap stood on the far side of the chasm, reaching for a lever attached to the bridge. Even as Adolin started running, the massive feat of engineering lurched in a ripple of motion from one side to the other. In the space of a moment, the bridge collapsed and the world shattered into so many wooden pieces.

* * * * *

It was a quiet, solemn force that returned to the warcamp that night, a funeral march without bodies to soulcast into stone. Adolin led the army back with uncharacteristic stiffness, his eyes red and strained beneath the helm of his Shardplate. He left the officers to dismiss their soldiers and handed Sureblood’s reins to a groom, a few men from Bridge Four following at a distance. He ignored them.

Somewhere behind him he thought he heard Shallan call his name, and then Renarin, but he kept moving up the hill towards the camp. He didn’t trust himself to stop.

Navani stood at the edge of the staging grounds, cold but trembling as she looked past him to the rest of the army. Wind snatched her hair from its braids, tossing it about her face but she made no move to fix it. Her breath hitched as he drew near and his steps slowed. She had seen it, then.

Gallant, riderless.

With effort he reached up to remove his helm, taking a deep breath in attempt to holdfast his ragged composure. His back to the army, the bridgemen forming a wall between the soldiers and the two of them, he still felt all too conscious of the eyes in their direction.

Composure. Control. He just had to last a little while longer. Just until he got back to the complex.

She met his eyes and he faltered.

“Where is he? Where is Dalinar?”

The words stopped in his throat, choking as he tried to force them out. He swallowed and tried again, but he kept reliving the scene in his mind.  _Kaladin raced back over the bridge to where Dalinar had stopped_ _…_

“I…he…”

He looked at her helplessly, unable to give voice to the truth. To speak it aloud would make it real, make it permanent in a way that could never be taken back.

“No,” she whispered, freehand covering her mouth. “Adolin, where is your father?”

“Mashala,” Renarin said from behind him, voice quavering but clear. “I’m…I’m sorry. He fell.”

The news spread through the camp as a cry broke from the queen-mother’s lips.

Dalinar Kholin, the Blackthorn of Alethkar, was dead. 


End file.
